


It's hard recruiting enough people to your terrorist organisation

by Rennll



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Actually don't own the Game, Drinking & Talking, Gen, Headcanon, Human Experimentation, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26080624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rennll/pseuds/Rennll
Summary: Back then Talon seemed no different from any other group of fanatics. The people in France perhaps knew of them, but why care about the one terrorist cell when you had already seen a thousand like them?Gerard had a bad premonition though, even before Talon started doing unsettling and revolting things.
Kudos: 1





	It's hard recruiting enough people to your terrorist organisation

Gerard had been present the first time they brought one of “those” Talon operatives into the postmortem.  
They had captured many recruits before that point, former soldiers or mercenaries that had attempted to keep themselves afloat while wars and conflict subsided around the globe. Armies had been dismantled leaving scores of war veterans without purpose and often an inability to resettle into society.  
Many militias reached out to these aimless men and women, because people who found that warfare was the only thing they were good at, easily stopped caring about who they did the warring and looting for. Talon was especially notorious for this kind of conscripting, becoming “a hassle” — as the newspapers put it back then — to the countries that tried to reestablish proper law and order. To the relatively unaffected people of France, Talon was a dime a dozen, yet another unlawful group on the rise in the same vein as GIA, LRA or KKK: extremists with delusions of grandeur and bloodshed who believed that if they caused enough mayhem the world would somehow reshape itself in their image. The only thing separating them from the other groups was that Talon never made any public declarations to go with their actions, no video of a prophet spouting words of revolution on the internet, or letters of demand sent to the governments they terrorized.  
When interrogating captured foot soldiers they heard plenty of personal motivation as to why they had joined Talon, most of it boiling down to money and frustration, but they had only vague ideas of what goals the organisation had as a whole.  
In a few years that would change, Talon growing from a disturbance placed at the bottom of every world leader’s pile of priorities, to the most influential and feared terrorist cell in history. The rapid development was unprecedented, taking all nations off guard, but even before the organisation was a well known name on every person’s lips, Gerard had felt a strange premonition that Talon wasn’t like any other terrorist cell. Talon would become something large and terrifying. That afternoon in the autopsy room was the first time he got confirmation that this was more than paranoia.

– This is ...  
The words came like a whisper from the assistant’s lips, his face pale to the point where his eyebrows looked like stripes of chalk drawn upon white paper. The pathologist, Dolores, had become stone faced the moment she removed the Talon agent’s helmet. Her gaze seemed distant, the expression of someone who observed, but did not let herself think about what she saw.  
Being able to see without seeing was a skill you developed naturally when working with autopsies, Gerard supposed. He had begun stroking the golden watch in his pocket, an old fashioned piece that had belonged to his mother and before that his grandma. It still worked perfectly and stroking it did wonders to calm his mind, to the point of embarrassment, because it reminded him of infants who became dependent on a certain toy to remain tranquil.  
Dolores took a deep breath.  
– Karl, you should leave, she told her assistant, who looked like he couldn’t imagine anything he wanted to do more, but hesitated.  
– Don’t you need help? he asked.  
– He can assist, Dolores nodded toward Gerard, who shrugged.  
– I have participated in several field surgeries in the past, he said.  
He did not mention how few those instances were, because the likelihood of him walking away from the autopsy with nightmares seemed less probable than it did for this trembling young man. Karl only needed this small assurance to escape the room like a spooked mouse.  
– I should have known that you would bring a real freak to me, Dolores sighed.  
– I’m sorry.  
– No need to apologize. If you’d known what was inside this suit beforehand, you would have warned me.  
– How can you be sure? Aren’t I “Mr. Confidential”?  
Shaking her head at him, Dolores seemed to realize — as did he — that they were unintentionally trying to delay the inevitable. Gloved hands came to a rest at the operatic table, as she looked the body over with weary eyes.  
– Let’s find out what this thing even is, she said.

– It was missing what? Velvet said, forgetting that he had cognac in his mouth, and choked.  
Gerard waited while the other man slammed at his bass drum of a chest, his trembling face taking the appearance of a red seabass that had been pulled out of the water. When the hacking caused the wafting cigarette in Velvet’s mouth to fall out — the man seldom bothering to pause his smoking while drinking, eating or speaking, and often combined all three activities — he shoot out a gloved hand and caught the butt end between two fingers, before it could hit Phillipe Diner’s three-euro-a-piece plastic tables. With the other hand he caught the ashflakes that loosened in the process.  
– Eyes, he repeated and offered the cigarette back to Velvet, who took it with a hoarse sound of thanks.  
– That and ears, nose, cheekbones — anything besides a mouth. He seemed more slime than man, he continued.  
Popping the cigarette back into his mouth, Velvet looked over his shoulder to search for eavesdroppers, though most of the dinners customers were sitting inside, where it was warm and bright and they got away from the smog caused by traffic and smokers. The only other person sitting outside was a bearded man in a ragged overcoat who rested his head against his table, perhaps sleeping.  
They were frequenting the kind of brawn establishment that people, who read about the esteemed and fancy Gerard Lacroix in the newspapers, would be shocked to see him step a foot inside. In his personal opinion, Gerard found joints to be as pleasant as acclaimed restaurants as long as you gave the excessively fat and salty food a wide berth.  
Velvet did not share his rebuffing attitude, and had asked that he would be allowed to finish at least half of his stake before Gerard began speaking about any sickening discoveries. Now he seemed to realize that he might have prefered going hungry, or at least ordering a dish with less béarnaise sauce.  
– I’m going to hate myself for asking this but do you have any photos? he asked.  
The hand that had snatched a falling cigarette from the air, made another swift and fluid movement, producing an envelope from an invisible pocket on his suit. He put it down on the table between them, where the light from inside the restaurant would illuminate it. Using one sole finger, Velvet lifted a corner open and peered at the pictures inside, staring without blinking for a full minute. The envelope made a soft snap as he let the page fall back over the pictures, then his hand moved to his face. He dragged hairy fingers down his face with a groan. When they reached his cheeks and tugged down the sloppy skin, the action made him look remarkably like a pale bulldog.  
– Have you ever eaten stockfish? That is what that guy looks like, he said and poked at the envelope. Was your idea that I would have the newspaper post these? Do you think any self respecting publisher would show this to their readers?  
– If it could be published, I think it will ignite a spark, Gerard said, zipping from the cognac he’d ordered, and watching Velvet shift as if his seat had become very uncomfortable.  
– You would like that wouldn’t you? he said, chewing on the cigarette and pointing his finger at him. That would be your wet dream if the government and the populace started taking Talon seriously overnight.  
– I assure you that my wet dream is more interesting than that, Gerard responded.  
For the fraction of a moment his thoughts grazed onto Amélie, before moving back to the here and now.  
– It’s true that it seems prudent to not ignore the danger they pose, he continued. You sound like you don’t think awakening peoples’ awareness would be a good thing.  
– Of course I do, Velvet replied with a glare that asked how he dared to insinuate anything else. I simply look at the consequences. People will rather accuse a respectable publisher for lies and slander than accept that this freak exists. They wouldn’t want to believe — Christ Gerard, you’ve seen the thing. This will sound horrible, but I wish it didn’t have a mouth. At least that way I could have pretended it was like the mannequins you see in clothing stores. Poor bastard.  
– They likely wouldn’t have let him have a mouth if this man hadn’t needed to eat and breathe, Gerard replied, tilting his glass and watching the drink swirl while he talked. Only bare necessities were allowed to him.  
– Eyesight was not considered a bare necessity? On a soldier?  
– That is the genius part. At least that’s what I believe the one responsible thinks.  
Gerard found himself nearly spitting the words, and took a deep breath.  
– The helmets have videofeed. For the typical uses you would think: recording images, letting other people see what you see — standard fare — but my friend Dolores has concluded that they play a larger role than that. This agent’s helmet was faceted with a transmitter that could send electromagnetic impulses to the brain, which means...  
– ...It could transmit it’s feed directly into the head of the wearer, is that it?  
– Exactly. The technology isn’t new, although scientists are still developing it. Several blind people have managed to see again thanks to glasses with a camera and connection to the brain. Imagine what would happen if you took these glasses away from one of them, especially if that person had never learned to live with their disability beforehand.  
– The first thing I imagine them doing is throwing a tantrum, afterwards they would be helpless.  
Gerard nodded.  
– If these soldiers for whatever reason would get the idea to defect … The tech needs constant maintenance and is too advanced for a soldier to repair on his own. Soon the helmet stops working and …  
He snapped his finger.  
– ... Talon can simply pluck the blind, deaf and utterly defenseless defector from wherever he scrambles off to. If he doesn’t die out of starvation or in an accident before hand.  
– People who encounter this dude wouldn’t want to help him either. If a thing like that came toward me, my first reaction would be to find the nearest gun and shoot it. Hiding his appearance in the armor of a terrorist organisation wouldn’t make things much better.  
Velvet plucked the cigarette from his mouth, studied its chew-mangled state with a frown then flattened it against the ashtray.  
– Did you ever leave your office between discovering this and scheduling our meeting? That unwashed look doesn’t mesh well with your sense of fashion, he continued.  
Gerard felt himself flinching, wanting to lie that Velvet was mistaken, not so much because he knew that he did look awful — combing through his hair and feeling the strands slink fat and crusty against his fingers, he had to wonder if he’d even remembered to shower lately — but rather because it awakened the guilt he felt for leaving Amélie alone at home. They had decided to always try to take breaks from their bussy careers at the same time and spend it in each other’s company, yet he always found extra work.  
– I haven’t, he admitted.  
– Not that I blame you. Jesus, who would let anyone do that to them? Why haven’t all the normal mercenaries left Talon already? Don’t they know what will happen to them?  
– The chances that they have ever seen one of these special soldiers without a helmet are slim…  
– ...There are secrets that never survive human curiosity.  
– Perhaps so, his fellow squad members were wary of this guy.  
– Wary in what way?  
– Referred to him as “the freak”.  
– That means they must have seen him.  
– Not necessarily, but they were unnerved by him. According to testimony, he always kept to himself. Unless they were sent on a mission he would do nothing but sit in the same spot. Not talk or do anything to pass the time. Just sit.  
– I still don’t get why the normal guys never ran for the hills.  
– The fear of execution?  
– If it was me, I would still run. Just think, if you knew that people were disappearing because Talon dragged them into labs and cut their faces off...  
– ...Riveting speculation as always, but Talon doesn’t drag anyone into a lab.  
Velvet stopped, mouth open, then threw his mastadonting frame back against the seat with a grunt.  
– How else could they have made this thing? Not from scratch? … Why are you nodding? ... No, that’s absurd. You think this thing was grown in a tube?  
– Do consider that I have just shown you the pictures of a person who looks more stockfish than man — Please, keep your voice down.  
Snapping his jaw shut, Velvet looked around his shoulder toward the table where the other visitor, if he had been sleeping, was now awake and staring at them. Velvet showed the man a toothy smile that had him look away quickly. Turning back again, Velvet pressed his gut into the table in his exalted need to lean closer to Gerard and hear him better.  
– Tell me then. How do you even know?  
– I have a skillful coroner friend. During the autopsy she found out … It will sound unbelievable.  
– Quit holding me in suspense.  
– Alright, he can’t have been older than two.  
– Two?  
– Two years.  
– This thing?  
Velvet slipped a finger into the envelope and pulled out a photograph on the table. The reason for his scepticism was clear: while the humanity of the thing caught on picture could be debated, it had without a doubt an adult body.  
– Tissue hardly lies, Gerard said while pushing the picture back beneath the envelope where neither of them needed to see it. While fully developed physically, he was as young as a baby.  
– Let me see if I’m on the same page. You have discovered this special soldier that Talon made to be totally dependent on them. Furthermore, it’s not a person that they have changed to be this way. Your theory is that this thing was created in a lab two years ago, then thrown into battle, which would make it some sort of mass produced terrorist.  
– That is pretty much what I have concluded myself, yes.  
– Unbelievable is what it is. This sounds like something plucked from sci-fi.  
– When I was a boy a robotic world war sounded like sci-fi as well.  
Grumbling, Velvet took a swing of his drink, sloshing it around his mouth as he thought, until realisation dawned on his face and he swallowed it down.  
– There’s only one place on earth where that thing could have been created...  
– ...Oasis. It seems we are continuing to arrive at the same conclusions.  
– Amoral bastards. I’ve been against that city’s establishment from the start. Anyone could tell you that bad things happen if you let mad scientists work without moral restraints.  
– Isn’t it interesting to consider that Talon might have ties to the secluded garden of innovation? Where would a group of anarchists have gained enough influence to...  
– ...They aren’t anarchists.  
– Come again  
– Talon ain’t a group of anarchists.  
– How do you figure?  
– Genuine anarchists believe that societal institutions are the root to oppression, preventing humans from living equally and in harmony with nature. At the core the idea is to help humanity: at least the ones I talked to firmly believed that.  
– Your anarchists sound very different from mine. None you ever interviewed dreamed of burning down city hall simply because he was a rebellious pyromaniac?  
– Might have something to do with the fact that when I meet them I’m not breaking into their flats to arrest them.  
– We digress, what was your point?  
– If Talon’s goal was anarchy they would attack the system, the goverments. Sometimes it might seem like they do, but it just strikes me as a means to their real end.  
– Which would be?  
– Hurting people. The contrived things they do won’t make any sense until you realize they simply cause as much suffering as possible. Like the whole salted earth thing in Bangladesh; what is the point of occupying land if you’re only gonna make it inhospitable? It didn’t have any symbolic meaning, and the big-shoots running the country won’t be overthrown because the people in the countryside are starving. What it accomplishes is unrelenting hardship.  
– I suppose.  
– You know it is like that. We are perhaps the only two in this country who actually worry about Talon.  
– What I worry about is what it means for a terrorist cell to be able to mass produce its own soldiers. It sounds too much like the Omnic War. Their soldiers don't need to agree with Talon’s views, only be churned out of a factory and put on a battlefield.  
Gerard glanced out toward the street. During the conversation the sky had darkened into a starless night. Outside of the dinner all the shops were all closed for the day and darkened, and the only thing chasing away the shadows were lampposts and passing cars. At the opposite side of the road a lonely lamppost, marked with red spray paint, was flickering on and off.  
Velvet made a gruff sound in the back of his throat, leaned back and lit himself a new cigarette.  
– I might bring with me some of those photos after all.  
– Changed your mind about them being impossible publishing material? Gerard said, and turned away from the lamp, which had decided to continue functioning for the time being.  
– I’m not making any promises; apart from a creepy face we only have theories so far. Don’t know if the publisher will go for it, but hopefully it will get more journalists on to Talon’s scent.  
– I appreciate it.  
Velvet had no real reason to peek at the pictures again, apart from the human impulse of looking at every terror twice as if to confirm to yourselves that it really will stay on your retinas for the rest of the evening.  
– I wish I hadn’t eaten, he shuddered.  
– I don’t think I’ve had a proper meal since the autopsy room, Gerard replied, then laughed as if there was something funny about that fact.  
He had probably become sleep deprived on top of everything else.


End file.
